


of gods and champions

by cancerouscactus



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerouscactus/pseuds/cancerouscactus
Summary: There are monsters here, in this place. Or at least the remnants of them. Their bones creak as the walk past him, their skinless feet dragging across the cracked, red earth. Zoro can’t even reach their knees, and when he touches them, he can’t help but shiver as his hand passes through them. The only sounds here are the sounds of bones and his own footsteps. They’re going somewhere, and he can’t help but follow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> can i get a mournful yee yee in the comments for the sleep this idea made me miss
> 
> i have about 1/3 of the next chapter fleshed out and the third marinating nicely in my brain. we’ll see how this turns out.

There are monsters here, in this place. Or at least the remnants of them. Their bones creak as the walk past him, their skinless feet dragging across the cracked, red earth. Zoro can’t even reach their knees, and when he touches them, he can’t help but shiver as his hand passes through them. The only sounds here are the sounds of bones and his own footsteps. They’re going somewhere, and he can’t help but follow.  
  
As he does every time he has this dream, he walks. For days, for minutes. Time doesn’t seem to pass here, wherever here is. But today is different, he walks for seemingly forever and finally there’s something different. Something that isn’t the leviathans in the sky, or the red, cracked earth.  
  
A vast ocean, clear as glass, and just as still. There’s movement under the surface, faces warped with pain and agony. Their clothing hanging off emancipated bodies, they reach for him, but their bony hands hit the glassy surface hard, like they can’t get through. Zoro steps back, shaken more than he would like to admit. The beasts around him moan, startling him, and lumber into the water, one after another, eventually disappearing completely under the still surface.  
  
“What the fuck?” He asks, completely baffled at the change in surroundings. It hasn’t changed for _weeks_ . Weeks of the same dream of walking, feeling like he’s being watched for every move. “Do I follow you?” He asks the monsters around him that are waiting their turn to walk into the water. He doesn’t expect an answer. He gets one, though, just not from the monsters.  
  
“Yohohoho,” Zoro whips around, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Figures that the one time he goes to bed naked is the one time he actually sees someone who can talk back.  
  
At first he suspects it’s a man, but as his eyes trail up the figure in the dark suit, he realizes this is a skeleton of a man, a very tall man, taller than the beasts. Tangible in way they aren’t. “Who the fuck are you?” Zoro asks, hands reaching out to graze it’s pant leg. To check—to feel something that isn’t his bare skin or an uneasy chill when the monsters walk through him. It’s cool to his touch, silky and inky in his tanned hands. “I don’t understand.” The exhaustion of not getting full nights of sleep creeps up on him, clouding his thoughts in the day, and also in his dreams now apparently.

Because that makes sense.

  
“Ah,” it says as if surprised, completely ignoring him, “your hair.”  
  
“What about my hair?” He runs his fingers through the brown locks, checking for anything weird.  
  
“It’s… different.” It says, it’s hand reaching out, jerking back to it’s side when Zoro flinches.  
  
“It’s the same as it’s always been.” He mumbles, feeling weirdly guilty for being nervous at the idea of having something so big touch him.  
  
“Yohohoho, no matter, my friend, more importantly,” it bends at the waist, it’s face a few inches from Zoro’s. “If you follow them into the water,” the sockets where it’s eyes would be are dark and endlessly empty, “you will meet an untimely and unfortunate end.” It’s jaw rattles as it speaks, distorting his words but not so much that he can’t understand it. “A shame, after you’ve come so far.”  
  
“Great.” Zoro mutters sarcastically, looking everywhere but the eye sockets. He had tried to sit before, when the dreams first started. He had sat, tried to sleep inside his own dreams, but everytime something in him had urged him on. _Something is coming,_ it said, _you need to find him._ So he walked. And now he cannot walk any more.

  
He’s pretty sure if the skeleton had a more expressive face, it’d be frowning, “I wouldn’t do that either if I were you. If they notice you’re here you’ll be in trouble, I’m afraid. Not that you couldn’t handle it, yohoho.”  
  
“They?” Zoro asks, his gaze sharpening. _Something is coming. You need to find him._

  
“Yohoho, I’m afraid I can’t say much more, dear friend.”  
  
“Can’t? Or won’t?” A beast passes through them. Zoro shudders.

  
It shrugs, lifting the limp hanging jacket on his shoulders with it, pulling up and away from Zoro. It toys with the cane dangling from it’s arm. “I can help you across, but not even old friends can get across for free.”  
  
“So there’s a price.”  
  
“Indeed, dear friend. You’d best hurry, and, ah, fork it up, as they say, soon. He’s been waiting for you, and I’m afraid he’s not pleased with how long it’s taken you.”  
  
“Who?” Zoro asks, baffled again ( _something is coming. you need to find him._ ). “Whoever it is can fucking wait—“  
  
He wakes. The world sharpens around him slowly, his apartment ceiling greeting him from above. It’s raining gently, Zoro is sticky with sweat and other fluids from the night before. The body next to him shifts, long blonde hair laid across the pillow.  
  
Zoro can’t remember his name. For lack of anything better to say, he shakes the man’s shoulder, muttering quietly in order to wake the man up.  
  
“Hey,” the man smiles at him gently, and a stab of guilt hits him. God, Zoro can’t even remember the guy’s name and now he’s going to kick him out of his bed. “Good morning.”  
  
“I have to go to work.” He says instead of anything substantial. The only name he can think of is Cabbage, but there’s probably no way in hell the man’s name is actually Cabbage.

  
“Oh.” A flush rises on the man’s face, “I’ll get out of your hair then.”  
  
He stands, grabbing the clothes he had strewn about Zoro’s room, and slipping them on. Zoro follows him out to the door, barely noticing Ace snoring at the kitchen table next to a cooling cup of coffee. He shuts the door behind the man quietly, and rubs his face aggressively. It smells like jizz and the faint stubble on his face leaves his hand red. “I knew you had a type.” Ace says smugly from the table where he’s just raised his head, “you denied it last night, but every guy you bring home is always blond.”  
  
Zoro swipes up Ace’s coffee on the table and downs it without hesitation. Ace squwaks indignantly, swiping at the empty cup. “You don’t live here, you don’t know who I bring home. I brought home a brunette last month. Fuck you.”  
  
“You’re just mad cause it’s true.”  
  
“Maybe fucking so. Luffy still asleep?”  
  
“Yeah—“ Ace’s chatter fades into the background as he contemplates the weird dreams.  
  
_not even old friends can get across for free_

* * *

  
When the only light in the nights are the floating street lamps that hover a few feet off the ground, Zoro leaves the dojo. His back is dripping in sweat from his afternoon work out after teaching the kids. His body aches, and his core is tight and tense, his shoulders pulled up to his ears. _something is coming, you need to find him._ Every corner he turns he sees a tall suited skeleton, his afro towering over the nearby buildings, the top hat making him easily the tallest out of all the buildings surrounding him. No small feat, considering most these buildings are about five stories tall.  
  
  
He chances a long stare into the alleyway next to him. The street lamps cast an odd lighting on the skeleton. It looks different here, in the real world, like the monsters _there_ , the misty air around it dulls the stark white of the bleached bones. Zoro can’t help but step forward to touch, to see if it’s as tangible as it was in his dreams. His fingers slide through its slacks, and it bursts and disperses, like breaking a dam. He shivers at the chill that washes over him. Behind the misty remains of the skeleton there’s a store front. A general store, claiming a boastful _Everything 99 Beli Or Less!_ It’s bright fluorescent lights and white walls shine through the windows, like a beacon in the dark night. It seems empty, but Zoro can’t get a clear view of the back.  
  
_not even old friends can get across for free_

  
He’s not sure why he walks in. Maybe to find something to pay the skeleton with. Maybe see if he can find some sort of outlawed mystic in the general store. A bell chimes softly when he opens the door, ringing in his ears and humming like nothing he’s ever heard before. Perhaps it’s the deep burgundy painting of the walls or the rope with small bones woven in it that hang loosely around the perimeter of the ceiling. The entire place is covered in a heady mist and Zoro still can’t see the back, no matter how far away from the door her walks. The hair on his arms stand up, and he suppresses a shiver.

  
“...the fuck?” He whispers. It had seemed so normal from the outside.  
  
“You have Sight.” The voice is scratchy, and Zoro looks wildly around for the owner. “Over here.” It takes a minute to trace it in the foggy store. A woman behind what he can only assume to be the checkout counter. Her face is all sharp angles, and her eyes a warm golden brown. Almost like a bird, he thinks, an image of an owl with the same eyes watching him flashing through his mind with startling clarity. Especially weird, because Zoro’s never even seen an owl, much less any type of animal in person. Animals haven’t been seen in Mariejois in hundreds of years.

Everything about her sets his teeth on edge, and he has to breathe through the nausea and the tightening in his chest just to speak. “What is this place?” The objects on the shelves are constantly shifting, changing colors and blurred in a way he hadn’t thought possible in reality.  
  
“A store.” She sounds amused, but the only indication of it on her face is the slightest upward tick in the corner of her mouth.  
  
“What does this store sell?” He asks, his head pounds the longer he stares at the items on the shelves, but the alternative is looking her in the face and feeling distinctly like he’s about to die.  
  
“Anything you desire.” She crosses her arms across her chest. Her fingernails are especially long, more like talons than anything that would belong on a human.

  
“You’re a witch.” He realizes aloud, finally looking her in the eye. Her arms tense and Zoro lunges back as she reaches for him. Her talons just barely catch on the collar of his hoodie and it rips under the sharp point, but she adjusts quicker than he can follow and she pulls him flush to the counter. Her eyes aren’t as warm anymore.  
  
“ _Don’t_ make that accusation lightly, boyo.” She hisses, “you know what they do to witches here.” _The witch hunts_ , he remembers and very nearly swears. They were violent burnings in the streets and even a mention of practicing magic was a death sentence. Accusing someone of being a witch was not taken lightly.  
  
“ _Nononononono,_ ” He starts, words tumbling over themselves. Usually he would welcome a fight, but he doesn't have his swords and he hasn’t had good sleep in a month.“I’m not like that. I have nothing against witches! I need help, actually!”  
  
Her eyebrow arches, “with what?”

He thinks of the sinking feeling in his gut when the beasts pass by him, and the skeleton that burst like a dam at the slightest touch. It’s an easy decision to make, in the end. “I think I have a curse.”

  
“Oh?” She releases him and Zoro steps back. Her eyes are still cold, but there’s something like amusement in them. “Tell me, why do you think you have a curse?”  
  
“I’ve been having these dreams.” It’s stilted at first but soon everything comes flowing out of him. All the weird shit that’s been happening, the skeleton he saw in his dreams and again in front of the store. “Do you know why this is happening to me?”  
  
“The lich,” noticing his confusion, she quickly clarifies, “the skeleton you saw, I saw it too. Because of that, I don’t think that whatever’s afflicting you is a curse. Even if it was, I couldn’t help you.” She hums and pulls something out from under the counter and slips it on the table, “I’m not a witch, but I am of the Ohara.” She says it like she’s commenting on the weather, like that isn’t about ten times more illegal than being a witch. “That’s what you’ve been sensing. Why you’re so tense. You feel something is off but you do not know what.” She sighs and peers at him closer, “as for your little problem, my guess is that you’ve been blessed, marked somehow by the old gods, but my eyes cannot tell by whom, as they do not see past the physical realm.” She grasps his hand in hers, encasing his hand entirely. It takes a few seconds, but he feels something begin to materialize in his hand, until it’s a solid weight. “This is to pay for your passage. Hold it when you sleep, and you will have it when you wake in your dreams.” She removes her hands, and Zoro looks at his palm, finding a single gold coin. This is his first time seeing a coin in person. Bizarrely, the coin occupies his mind more than the fact that he’s talking to probably the last Ohara living. “And finally,” she slides the object over to him, a mapholo, actually. “Find Boa Hancock when you wake. She can tell you what has been put upon your soul. Tell her Nico Robin sent you,” her lips crane into a devilish smirk, “and if she asks about me, tell her I said to stop by. I’ve bought some new toys to test out.”  
  
“I—thank you.” He thumbs the coin in his palm, “I owe you.” There’s probably something else that he should say, but he can’t think of it, so he just bows his head.

  
She nods, “and I will hold you to it, Blessed One. And if you tell anyone of what you saw here,” her talons scrape across the counter, “I will find you, and I will escrivate you.”  
  
The bell doesn’t jingle when he opens the door to leave. The cold air of the night sky greets him with a slap in the face and he shivers when he steps out of the shop. He hadn’t realized it was so warm in there. He only makes it a few steps away from the store front before he realizes that he doesn’t know what the hell an old god is. When he turns around to go back in and ask a few questions, the storefront is gone, and all that greets him is the cold steel of the surrounding buildings.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
He has no fucking idea where he is.

Zoro sleeps with the coin clenched tightly in his hand. Per what has become normal these past few weeks he dreams. The skeleton is there, so is the cracked dry earth, the sea of souls, and the beasts. Everything about this place is so far removed from reality, the melancholy that decorates the skeleton’s face is the only thing that feels real in this place. It’s dizzying and disorientating just being here.

“You’re here.”

Zoro nods, and grunts out, “This is what you need, right?” He presents the coin that he’d clutched so hard there’s a red indent in his hand. It’s warm now, radiating heat that the cold stillness of this place seems to steal from him in waves.

The skeleton’s spindly hands reach down to gently pluck the coin from his open palm. The heat he loses with the coin almost makes him shudder. “This will do. You’ve done well to get this far.” Again, the skeleton bends it’s hand down, this time next to Zoro’s feet. “Yohoho, it’s been so long since I’ve taken anyone across to see him.” It’s voice seems to drop a little, “it gets so lonely out here.” He carefully steps on the massive bones, and keeps his balance the best he can as it raises him up to it’s shoulder. “Sit, here, on my collar bone. It will be awhile before we get to where we’re going.”

A massive step takes them into the water, the skeleton is just tall enough for it’s chest to stand above the water. It doesn't feel like their moving. By looks, Zoro wouldn’t be able to tell if not for the slowly disappearing earth. For a while all they see is a long stretch of glassy water. The souls trapped beneath it writhe under the water, reaching but never able to touch. He wonders if Kuina is in there somewhere. He’s not sure what he would feel is she was. The silence stretches for miles, he very nearly starts nodding off, he’s been here for so long, and he’s so, so tired. “Do you mind if I sing?” The simple words send vibrations up the skeleton’s jaw, and he feels them from where his hand is fisted in it’s afro. Zoro doesn’t answer.

_“Yohohoho, yohohoho...”_

The song shakes out of it, and rattles through the air like a ballad. He doesn’t know the language but the words ring out across the horizon, accented by the moans of the beasts that echo across the sky. It’s familiar, this song. Zoro can’t place where he’s heard it, but it feels like home and love.

The song ends with one last rattling _yohoho_ and Zoro spots a castle in the distance. Entirely white, it’s gates taller than anything he’s ever seen. “Is this…?” He doesn’t quite know what he’s referring to, but the skeleton pushes the gates open with one massive hand. They make no sound as they pass through the water. He notices none of the spirits go past the gate, but not for a lack of trying. They slam up against it, their silent screams spreading their face out like a pale imitation human desperation. Zoro would be hesitant to even say they started out human, even if deep down, he knows that is what they are. The dead. Human dead.

“Indeed, old friend.”

“It’s pretty.” His throat constricts with something, and his words come out choked. It feels something like nostalgia. Like when he sees the house Koushiro took him in at. He steps onto the massive outstretched hand, balancing carefully as it carries Zoro like he’d break any second from now. He’d be annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that Zoro’s almost one hundred percent sure that if so much as grazes the death-water with his pinky toe he will not wake up. Some extra care in transporting him is not exactly unwanted. When his bare feet touch the white marble, he feels the warmth of his body seep into the steps and warm them slowly. The castle, while imposing and cold, feels welcoming almost. Something hums in his ear, a greeting, or a welcoming party. The embrace of an old friend. The castle sings with hymns of things lost and regained. It thrums with life, despite the cold marble being nothing but still.

“Thanks, Brook.” The words come out of his mouth, without him meaning to and he jolts, turning wide eyes to the still partially submerged skeleton.

It’s jaw opens wide. “Yohoho—“

He wakes. The ceiling fan spins and Zoro curls his body over the side of his bed, his stomach rolling and his head pounding.

The skeleton had never introduced itself to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of dialogue  
> lots of clearing things up  
> zoro and nami being bros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y’all! this chapter is really very short but i couldn’t add it to the next chapter without making the next one hella long. NOTE THE UPDATED TAG!! IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE IN THIS ONE BUT NOT BETWEEN CANON CHARACTERS OR ANY SHIT LIKE THAT!

There’s probably something to be said about finding out you’re not going insane. It probably sounds like _oh thank god, I’m not going crazy_ or something inane like that. This feels like—like something big. Zoro, for all his drive and his stubbornness is not an idiot. Things like this, magic, large magic, not the mild offensive things he’s seen Nami use in a tough spot, this is the kind of things that the World Government ends people for. It’s the kind of thing the Ohara were hunted for. It’s the kind of thing that could put the Strawhats in danger, a moot sort of point since they’re backed by Whitebeard and can handle most threats, but it’s also the kind of thing that could put Koushiro in danger. Koushiro, with his greying temples and the dojo that smells like home and Kuina’s old room that sits dusty and quiet. He rolls out of bed. No point in trying to sleep now.

The bar at the time of night Zoro arrives is quiet. The only people left are the ones too fucked to care when Nami drags their ass outside. “So, Zoro,” she leans over the bar counter, her hair falling over her shoulder. “You weren’t at the meeting last night. Ace popped in, said the Revolutionaries now that Whitebeard’s publicly proclaimed his support. Something about the World Government’s weapons and what’s powering them.” Her eyes sparkle with the gold of weather magic as she tosses a towel over her shoulder. “Something about magic.”

“Did Luffy say anything about it?” He asks, nursing his pint and staring into the amber liquid. The skeleton’s—Brook’s—laugh rings through his ears. In an effort to forget about everything, he tosses the last dredges of it, wiping his mouth after he finishes it off. “Another?” He grunts out.

She shakes her head, moving to the other end of the bar and grabbing a cup to dry off. “The gods damned printer broke again. It’s so fucking old but Franky loves fixing it.” She rolls his eyes. “You know how he is.” She passes him a glass of water, “that was the last of it, you lucky bastard. I’m going to have to kick all these other assholes out now, unless all they want is tap water.”

He grunts again, sipping on the water. She holds out an expecting hand, and Zoro raises an eyebrow. Her fingers wiggle, and he sighs, placing a hand on the transaction pad that rests near every stool. The holo shows a staggering five thousand beli and he rips it away before it even asks for his facial scan and voice confirmation. “The fuck?”

She shrugs, “a hundred for the drink, four thousand nine hundred for the info. It’s only fair.” A smirk dances on her lips, her eyes glitter with magic again.

“No! No it’s not you asshole!” He glares, “I’m his first man, technically your superior, dipshit, the info is free.”

“I’ll add it to your tab.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.” She places the cup down, watching as he tries to formulate a response to the comeback that won’t make him sound stupid as shit. He can’t and her eyes narrow. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m sleeping,” he denies, “just not very well.”

“Obviously. I’m not stupid, Zoro.” She bites her lip, her voice dropping low into a whisper, “is it the dreams?” She takes his stony silence as confirmation it is and forges on. “I can… make them stop. For the night. If you want.”

Normally he wouldn’t accept the help, but magic is Nami’s thing and Zoro is so out of his depth it’s not even funny anymore. He nods jerkily, and she tilts her head towards the back, eyes scanning the scant few customers left in the bar. He slips into the back where Franky is working on the food printer, the tinkering of tools keeping him awake while he waits for Nami to kick them out of the bar. Franky sends him a nod, noticing his tiredness and says nothing. Nami finally slips in, and Zoro makes himself comfortable on the couch crammed in the back. She nods, and presses her hand to his temple, muttering in a language Zoro can’t understand and confuses him so much he feels his head pang. He can’t look away from her glowing gold eyes, captivated by the overwhelming warmth and safety she radiates.

(He won’t admit it to her face, but everyday Zoro is more and more thankful Luffy recruited her, she’s saved his life countless times and at this point he would rather die than hurt her, even if the urge to smash her head in is _overwhelming_ sometimes.)

And then it’s black

When he wakes, the bar is closed, but Franky lets him out when he knocks on his apartment door above the bar. It’s a simple exchange with Franky, as it usually is, if not just as loud as usual. Typically, it goes something like this:

“You good, bro?”

“Yeah.”

“Super.”

But Franky is dependable, and Franky lets them use his house as their “home base” for the gang. They keep him around because he’s funny, loyal, and the only one in the Straw Hats other than Usopp that knows how to work around the technology that invades everything in this city. As far as Zoro is concerned, Franky is cool and does cool stuff. And that’s probably all that matters. Plus Usopp really likes him.

Work goes normal for most of the day, until, as he watches Koushiro pray by the well hidden shrine in the storage closet of the dojo, the words _hey old man, do you know anything about the old gods?_ slips out before he notices he’s said anything. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Hm?” The older man turns slowly. And Zoro is struck by how much older the man looks, the hair at his temples grey and the corners of his eyes wrinkled in crows feet. “Old gods, Zoro-kun?” At his nod, Koushiro continues, “hmm. Not much more than anyone else who lived through the war, I suppose.” He laughs lightly, “don’t give me that look, Zoro-kun, sit, I will explain.”

As Zoro settles, Koushiro begins. “In general, gods are only as powerful as you make them. The new gods began as mortals, and thereby can be corrupted by greed, rose to power by death and destruction, they feed off the fear of those oppressed by their champions.” At Zoro’s confused expression, he elaborates, “champions are those the gods mark apart from the rest, people that represent their beliefs and carry out their will on this plane. Their chosen lovers, sometimes. The old gods don’t rely on belief and fear, it makes them more powerful, but it’s not required for their continued existence. The old gods take and give equally, they protect what’s theirs and are not power driven. They give witches power, they sustain all magical beings on this earth. But the war, decades ago, back when animals Marejois and forests and oceans were the only thing seen for miles.” His voice is light but his eyes are harder than Zoro has ever seen them. 

“I am not sure why I have been blessed to live this long, but I do believe it is my duty to share the truth of what happened. Marejois was under the protection of the god of life and power, he used his power to sustain this island, and in turn, the nature and life sustained him.” He places the incense in the shrine holder and watches it burn. “When the new gods were on the rise, their infamy amongst mortals powered them and their conquest stretched all the way here. Their champions were unstoppable, their powers unimaginable. They razed the island to the ground overnight. The god of life, so lost in grief over the death of his people and his lands, was overwhelmed quickly. I believe he still lives through us, through those that know his story, and those who practice magic in the dark.” His eyes crinkle, “I hope I live to see the day he rises again.”

It’s times like these. The quiet ones, when Koushiro seems larger than life, that makes Zoro so grateful the man had found him that day, when Zoro was beaten and bloodied. Zoro only had vague memories of his parents, his father, more often than not was mad. He was mad about a lot of things, and the starkest, most clear memories of him are times when a bottle was in his hand and hatred on his lips and clenched tightly in a fist that hurt him more than anything else. He doesn’t think he remembers his mother, but sometimes he dreams about her. Long green hair, in fields of yellow grain. She laughs at him and cards her fingers through her hair and says things like _loyalty, little Zuzu, is the strongest thing a man can have_ she tweaks his nose, _and you have it in spades._ He doesn’t talk about his parents, thinks maybe he’s dreaming them up, because he can’t remember a good majority of his life. Farmers and open fields haven’t existed in a long time, and Zoro was found seven years ago by Koushiro, when he was young, a boy just out of his teen years. His mother was fabrication of a mind too empty, too starved of affection. She didn’t exist, and maybe his father didn’t exist either. The dreams used to be comfort, before Kuina died, but now they just leave him bitter when he wakes up.

In the end though, it doesn’t matter where Zoro comes from. He’s Luffy’s first mate, he’s Koushiro’s son in every way that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me at carcinocacti on tumblr


End file.
